My Plan B (Middlemarch Shifters Book 11)

by Shelley Munro

  Now, however, it was more than fear of losing a mate that ate at him. What if Megan couldn’t accept his wolf, accept that their baby would carry wolf blood, even if he or she never shifted? They would pass that blood onto their children.

  “Jacey—Dad—she is a good woman. I like her. Gerard and London like Megan too. We enjoy having her around, and I like seeing the way you are with her. You’re happy and not as serious. Put your trust in her and tell the truth.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, but telling her opens me up to rejection. I don’t think I can handle that.”

  “Mark her then. Give yourself an advantage.”

  Jacey stared at his son. “I’ve considered it,” he said in a hoarse voice, shame making his shoulders slump. “It’s not the act of an honorable wolf. I can’t trap Megan that way.”

  “Just checking,” Henry said in a mild voice.

  “A test?”

  “You passed. I knew you would.”

  “I’ll tell Megan I’m going for a run.” He laughed when Henry gaped at him. “Megan assumes I’m running with two legs. See you in five.”

  Jacey went in search of Megan and found her in London’s office. London was working in the café again and doing some of her virtual assistant work during her down time.

  “How is the writing coming?”

  “I’ve been reading through diaries today and taking notes. I have an online interview session with Dillion at the end of this week.” She stretched her arms above her head and groaned. “I must be coming down with something. I feel achy. Nothing wrong with my appetite though.” She pulled a face. “I’m craving a steak.”

  “I’ll take a couple out of the freezer.”

  “Already done. London has a chicken ready to go into the oven.” She glanced at her watch. “Almost time to put it on to cook. I told her I’d put it on for her if she wasn’t home in time. Chicken sounds good too.” Her stomach rumbled in punctuation of the thought. “I hear Emily Mitchell is eating a lot of vegetables and staying healthy. I’m eating meat that is barely cooked. Are you sure the doctor said that was okay? It doesn’t seem healthy, but I can’t stop myself.”

  “Gavin said that the body has a way of demanding what it needs when a woman is pregnant. He said as long as you remain active and don’t feel ill, not to worry.”

  A horn honked.

  “I’m going for a run with the boys. That okay?”

  “Of course!”

  “Gotta go,” Jacey said when the horn honked again.

  “Have fun.”

  “We’ll be away about an hour. Don’t overdo it.” He kissed her, smoothed his hand over the slight bulge of her tummy and left at a jog.

  Megan brushed her fingers over tingling lips. She hadn’t realized the stress she’d carried on her shoulders with her job. Living in Middlemarch didn’t bore her. If anything, the social whirl exhausted her, but it was fun too. She stretched again and winced at the deep ache in her bones. It was worse than she’d let on to Jacey, but she hadn’t wanted him to chastise her for carting boxes of research around. Now she was paying for her foolishness.

  She scooped up the stack of diaries and her notes and locked them away in a safe Jacey had procured for her. Security contacts came in handy.

  A hot shower might help with the aches and pangs. She turned off the computer and left the office in darkness. The security lights flicked on to light her way to the house, darkness setting in early now that they’d hit mid-winter.

  Instinctively, her gaze sought the moon. A weird obsession. Harmless but weird. She huffed out her amusement. She was turning odd in her old age. Her hand went to her stomach to cup the slight mound. “Kid, not only are you going to have older parents, but a peculiar mother too. Two strikes against you already.”

  She hurried inside and shut the door against the cool night air. How Jacey and the boys could run in this cold, she’d never understand. In the communal lounge, she turned on the gas fire. Chicken next. She turned on the oven to heat, made a cup of mint tea while she waited and picked up Jacey’s tablet to check her email. Ooh, her new cover. Nice!

  London arrived home about half an hour later, and Megan climbed off her barstool to make her a cup of tea too.

  “You don’t have to wait on me,” London said as she took the stool beside Megan. But she cupped the mug of tea and sighed in appreciation.

  “What do you think of this?” Megan asked and slid the tablet over for London to see her cover. A man with a broad chest, tattoos and the faint impression of dragon scales screamed bad-boy attitude on this most recent cover. It fit well with the rest of the series, and she liked it very much.

  “What are you doing…how did you get to see a Carrie English cover? Are you in her fan group?”

  “No.” Megan giggled. A nervous chortle from she who never uttered a girly giggle.

  “Then how…” London’s eyes went wide. “Jacey asked me about Carrie English books. He wanted to read one.”

  He’d read the love scenes out to her in his sexy voice and seduced her with her own words. A whoosh of heat eased the ache in her bones and muscles.

  London’s gaze narrowed, and Megan could see the younger woman’s brain ticking over the information. “You’re Carrie English.” Distinct accusation rang out and echoed in the kitchen.

  “Guilty.”

  “Why don’t you have a newsletter? You don’t even have a fan group.”

  Megan suppressed her grin. “I didn’t have time to do online promo or any promo with my work schedule.”

  “You’re hiring me,” London ordered. “I will organize everything for you. And don’t think I’m giving you family rates either. You can’t keep a huge secret like that from family.”

  “Tessa, my sister, doesn’t know. She doesn’t approve of trashy romances.”

  “Even if her sister wrote them?”

  “That would be worse,” Megan said, no longer suffering pangs of hurt at her sister’s attitude.

  “Can I read this one early? Before the rest of your fans?”

  “You really enjoy them?”

  “You will autograph my collection. I’m moving into e-books because of storage and it made little sense to get all my books sent over from England. I had to choose my favorites, and my friends freighted them here for me.”

  “I’d like to keep my penname secret,” Megan said.

  “Why did you tell me?”

  “You said it earlier. You’re family. I’ll tell Gerard and Henry, but no one else. Jacey already knows.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” London promised. “But I’m serious about the promo thing. Can I work for you?”

  Megan held out her hand. “We’ll shake on it.” With the formalities sealed, Megan relaxed as London chatted with her about promo. A yawn slipped free before she could cover her mouth. “Sorry. I’m starving but I’m not sure I can stay awake for dinner.”

  London checked the clock on the microwave. “Why don’t I cook you a steak then you can head off to bed? Jacey and the others won’t mind if you go to bed early.”

  “I can cook a steak.”

  “You’re exhausted. Stay there. It won’t take me a minute to organize a meal for you.”

  “You’ve cooked all day. You shouldn’t have to run after me.”

  London turned to her. “If I were pregnant and tired, would you cook a meal for me?”

  “Of course I would.”

  “There is your answer then. The minute I’m pregnant I’ll expect breakfast in bed. At the very least,” London announced.

  The younger woman moved around the kitchen with ease, pulling cold potatoes from the fridge, heating the pan and putting on another small pot. Soon the scent of fried onions and mushrooms, potatoes and searing steak filled the kitchen. In an amazingly short time, London set the plate in front of her with a rare steak, potatoes, onions and mushrooms and a serving of green peas.

  “Do you mind if I have a glass of wine?”

  “Supe
rwoman deserves a glass of wine,” Megan said as she cut the steak and shoved the first bite into her mouth. She moaned as she chewed and swallowed. “Delicious.”

  With her hunger appeased, the aches dissipated. She’d obviously overdone things today. Jacey was right, and she needed to slow down. She swallowed the last mouthful and pushed her plate away from her with a satisfied sigh. Another yawn escaped.

  “Megan, go to bed. Even if you don’t sleep straightaway, you need to relax and take things easy. Go,” London ordered. “No one will mind if you have an early night.”

  “I think I might,” Megan said, standing.

  A quick shower took care of the rest of her muscle twinges and she slid between the sheets, intending to read more of Jacey’s book about werewolf lore. She picked up where she’d left off. Werewolves could live for up to three hundred years. Hmm, difficult to hide in the modern age. Maybe her new series should start at a point where humans knew about mystical creatures. Her eyes grew heavy, and the words blurred. Finally, giving up, Megan set the book aside and gave into her craving for sleep.

  Jacey arrived home later than he’d expected. He’d made up his mind while running across the hills and playing chase with Henry and Gerard amongst the piles of schist covering the hillside. He’d tell Megan tonight, explain what he was and what it meant to their relationship. The longer he left it, the worse the potential outcome. He knew he wouldn’t be forgiving if Megan kept a secret of this magnitude from him.

  “Dinner smells good,” Henry said as they neared the front door.

  “I’m starving,” Gerard said.

  They piled in the doorway, dirty and sweaty but each of them content after their run. Jacey had felt the call of the moon tonight and the hard-out run had lessened the demand of the wolf. His wolf relaxed now, satisfied by the physical exertion.

  London sat at the breakfast bar, engrossed by something on the tablet. His tablet, Jacey noted.

  “Where is Megan?”

  “She was tired, so I made her an early dinner and she went to bed. Why didn’t you tell me she is Carrie English?”

  Jacey halted. “She told you?”

  “Yes, and I hired myself as her promo person,” London said, lifting her chin.

  “Megan is the Carrie English?” Gerard asked.

  “The author? The one who writes those hot love scenes?” Henry demanded. “The ones Gerard reads to London for foreplay.”

  London slapped Henry on the arm. “Shush. Enough of that.”

  “The very one,” Jacey said, proud of Megan’s accomplishments.

  “We’re not allowed to tell anyone else,” London said. “But Megan said it was okay if both of you knew.”

  “A lot of secrets around this place,” Henry commented.

  “There won’t be for much longer,” Jacey said. “I’ve decided to tell Megan everything.”

  “Pop, she writes paranormal romance. If anyone can accept feline shapeshifters and dragons, it is Megan.”

  Jacey agreed with London, not that it made spilling the truth any easier. “I’ll check on Megan and take a quick shower.”

  “Dinner in ten minutes,” London said.

  Jacey nodded. “I’ll be here on time.”

  When he entered their suite, Megan was sound asleep, her breathing low and even. At least she was a heavy sleeper. He padded into the en suite and took a shower to wash off the mud splatters from his run. Megan was still asleep when he left to join the kids for dinner.

  * * * * *

  She dreamed of wolves.

  A pack of wolves, running through the darkness, singing to the moon.

  Megan stood, watching them play and frolic. Itchiness fizzled across her arms and legs, envy at the wolves’ carefree nature, their freedom, drawing her closer. She ached to run, the itchiness sinking to her bones.

  She had to move. Had to move.

  She forced her limbs to motion. A sudden fiery ache caused her breath to catch, a pained scream rushing forth. What was wrong with her? The niggles and twinges of earlier were nothing compared to this blazing agony. A roar burst up her throat, her entire body arching forward.

  The wolves ran and ran, disappearing from her sight, and despite the pain tormenting her entire body, the craving to follow became even stronger.

  Without warning, something burst inside her and she fell forward. A glance down at her arms tore a shriek from her. Excitement filled her as she realized she had turned wolfish.

  She could run. She could play. She could howl at the moon.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jacey shuffled on his chair at the dinner table, surreptitiously checked his watch. He had this urge to go to Megan, yet he didn’t want to hover. She needed her space.

  “Pop.” London’s sharp voice made him jump.

  Gerard and Henry ceased their chatter about a quote for a job. Jacey had checked out of the conversation five minutes ago.

  “What?”

  “Check on Megan. It’s obvious you want to. If she’s awake, ask if she wants pudding. I made a lemon tart while I was waiting for you guys to come home for dinner.”

  Jacey sprang up without a second urging. Gerard made a mumbled comment to Henry, and they both sniggered, probably something at his expense. He didn’t care. His wolf wanted to see Megan and reassure himself of her safety.

  He shook his head. No wonder Henry and Gerard were poking fun at him.

  The instant he opened the door to the suite, he smelled wolf. A strange scent yet familiar too. He froze, scanning the surroundings as he left the door open and stepped inside. Megan wasn’t in the bed. Although his eyesight could pierce the dark of the room, he reached to the right to hit the switch because he wanted Megan to see him.

  “Megan,” he called.

  A whine came from the far side of the bed.

  “Megan?”

  The figure uncurled, tipped back their head and let out a howl that lifted the hair at the back of his neck.

  Fear stabbed at Jacey as he cautiously approached the bed to get a better look.

  “Dad?” Henry stood in the open doorway with Gerard and London standing right behind him.

  “Wait there,” Jacey ordered, not taking his gaze off the howling figure. Blonde hair. Wolfish snout. The remains of a pink T-shirt clung to a fur-covered back and upper arms. “Hey. It’s okay. Let me see.”

  Another panicked howl filled the room, and he wanted to howl in concert. Jacey tamped down his wolf and approached with care. Concern and shock thumped through him. Megan…no, it was impossible, but it was because he recognized her hair. Her scent. The mangled pink T-shirt.

  “Careful, Dad. She’s panicked.”

  Henry had come to the same conclusion as him. Somehow, Megan had shifted. Not a normal shift but a half-shift, which took great skill and strength to hold. A werewolf who could do a partial shift was a rare being indeed.

  “No, stay back there.”

  In his peripheral vision, Jacey saw London brush past Gerard, despite his objection.

  “Careful, London. Her wolf is in control. She won’t know what is happening to her.”

  “She won’t hurt any of us,” London said, coming even closer. “It was her choice to move to Middlemarch and change her life to be with you. She’ll get past this.”

  Jacey’s breath caught in his throat. He hoped London’s confidence wasn’t misplaced.

  “We’re sure that is Megan?” Gerard asked the obvious question.

  “Who else could it be?” London tossed her head. “No one else could have entered with none of you noticing. Megan went to your suite, and I haven’t seen her since, ergo this is Megan.”

  “Ergo?” Henry shook his head.

  Megan held out her hands. Blonde fur covered her arms, and Jacey knew she’d make a beautiful wolf. She gave a garbled howl, her eyes—longer and more slanted than usual—full of distress.

  “Shush, sweet pea,” Jacey said. “It’s okay.”

  Megan howled—the mournful cry sending goos
eflesh over his arms.

  “Tell her how to shift,” London said. “She might not know. Did you do something to her to make her turn into a wolf?”

  “No, of course not.” Jacey had no idea that someone not full wolf could shift. If it had happened before, the stories hadn’t reached him, and he’d been around a while. “Megan, close your eyes.”

  Megan stood and Jacey blinked in surprise. She darted past him and the others and out the door before he could marshal a protest.

  London was the first to move. “Quick. After her before someone else sees her. Someone that shouldn’t see her. What if those stupid reporters are loitering at our gate again?”

  Jacey sprang after her with Henry and Gerard following. They burst outside just as Megan vaulted over the fence into a paddock.

  “What the hell do we do?” Jacey watched Megan scurry across the grass, then stop to stare at the moon.

  London folded her arms across her chest. “I suggest you and Henry shift and do whatever wolfies do during the full moon. She’s not running away. She seems to want to run, and she’s staring at the moon. It seems to mesmerize her.”

  London was right. Megan was acting moonstruck—like a wolf that hadn’t shifted for a long time.

  Jacey yanked at his clothes, stripping rapidly and almost falling flat on his face because of his haste.

  London and Gerard sniggered until Gerard realized she was gawking at a naked male.

  He growled. “Eyes front, mate.”

  Henry frowned in Megan’s direction. “Are you sure you want me to help?”

  “Yes. Yes. Hurry.” Bloody hell. He should have told Megan earlier, prepared her for the knowledge that werewolves existed. It might not have changed the outcome, but at least she’d have been prepared. The terror in her eyes had been like a blade to his chest. Stupid. So stupid. He needed his son’s presence to make sure he didn’t fuck up any worse than he had already.

  Jacey pictured his wolf and his body flowed into his wolf shape. Black fur dipped in silver spread across his naked skin. He embraced the pain of the shift, thinking he deserved every bit of it for failing Megan. He dropped to his paws and turned to watch Megan. She scampered across the grass, and as he watched, she screeched to a halt, threw back her head and howled.